Can't You See, It's Not Me You're Dying for
by Atg543
Summary: Brooke/Dean crossover. Oneshot.


Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or One Tree Hill, too bad though, right

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or One Tree Hill, too bad though, right? I also don't own the song "Brick" by Ben Folds Five.

Note: I know I have other stories long overdue for updates, but I'm sorry. This just came to me, and I went with it. There is some background information that you need to know. Dean and Brooke had a long-winded fling (After him and Cassie. He met Brooke shortly after, just looking for a fling while working a case near Tree Hill). They both wanted it to be more, but Dean couldn't stand telling Brooke the truth of what he did, or the idea that she could be hurt because of their relationship. So he left, breaking both of their hearts. In Supernatural time, this story takes place after a "Very Merry Supernatural Christmas." In One Tree Hill time, this story takes place after the school shooting, more precisely after Lucas and Brooke fight at the party she throws for him at the school.

Can't You See, It's Not Me You're Dying For

_6 am day after christmas  
I throw some clothes on in the dark  
The smell of cold  
Car seat is freezing  
The world is sleeping and  
I am numb_

Dean Winchester rubbed his eyes, shutting them tight for a moment before opening them to once again view the wide expanse of nothing that seemed to expand endlessly before him. Sam was alseep in the seat beside him, but Dean couldn't blame him. They'd been on the road for hours now, on their way to investigate a string of mysterious murders in Charlotte, North Carolina., as a favor for Ellen. Plus, they'd both stayed up late the night before, drinking and watching TV – celebrating Christmas for the first time since they were kids.

Dean unconsiously reached for the necklace that hung around his neck. His life had always been on the go, a string of lies tied together with gasoline, always payed for with fake credit cards and sly smiles. This necklace reminded him why he did the job. His family. In a sense, Dean had always believed that he was born to save people. It was his fate. And how can you fight fate? Dean looked over at Sam once more, and the image of his face from the night before flashed through his eyes. When Sam had told Dean why he'd agreed to celebrate Christmas, Dean had almost wished he'd never said anything. He'd just celebrated his last Christmas. Part of Dean believed that he should feel angry or sad or scared. But he didn't feel any of that. He felt nothing.

He shivered, and reached for the heater, turning it on high. The weather, which had been mild thanks to the Pagan Gods he and Sam had just killed, was now suddenly very cold. He wondered how cold it'd be in North Carolina.

North Carolina. He hadn't been there in a while. A long while. But when you're running out of time, racing towards the future, your past always has a way of rushing towards you from the other side. So you are forced to live in the present, because there is so much pressure from the future and the past that you can barely move.

Now, as he glanced at a highway sign, Dean felt like he was being forced to face things he so desperatly wanted to shove into the past or push into the future.

"Dean?" Sam's voice shook Dean out of his thoughts.

"Good morning sleeping beauty." Dean smirked, glad to have a distraction. "Good dreams?"

"Shut up." Sam said, his voice still groggy. "What where you thinking about just now?"

Dean glanced at him, "What?"

"Your face was weird just now." Sam explained, sitting up in his seat and reaching for a bottle of water.

"Yeah well, your face is always weird." Dean dead-panned.

"Ha ha." Sam rolled his eyes, deciding not to push Dean further. Dean wasn't a "let's talk about our feelings" guy.

"Are we almost there?" Sam changed the subject, looking out the window.

"Yeah." Dean answered shortly.

Sam looked at his brother, forgetting his idea to leave it alone. "What's going on with you Dean? You've been acting weird ever since Ellen asked you to take this case."

"Nothing's wrong Sam. I'm just tired because I've been driving for four hours."

Sam shrugged, "I offered to drive."

"I like driving my car."

Sam shook his head, "Whatever man. If you want to talk about what's on your mind, I'm here."

"Aw, thanks Sammy. You want to hold hands know? We can stop at that gas station and buy one of those "I'm gay and proud" bumper stickers? With the kittens on it?"

Sam didn't bother responding, instead he just pulled out his lap top and began researching the murders.

Dean was glad Sam had dropped the subject. He did have something on his mind though, of course he did. He was going to be 30 minutes away from her. He was going to pass through her town. How could he not think about her beautiful hazel eyes, her long dark hair, her porcelin skin, her dimples?

He had a hard enough time not thinking about her when he was hundreds of miles away.

And now, as they were closing in on Tree Hill, he knew that there was no way he would be able to keep Brooke Davis out of his mind.

_Up the stairs to her apartment  
She is balled up on the couch  
Her mom and dad went down  
To charlotte  
They're not home to find us out  
And we drive_

_  
Now that I have found someone  
I'm feeling more alone  
Than I ever have before_

Brooke Davis looked around her empty apartment. Haley was staying with Nathan. After the recent months of tragedy, they wanted to be together. Brooke couldn't blame them. It would be nice if Lucas had offered to come home with her, just to lay with her, be with her. But she had no idea where Lucas was. He had left her at the party – the party she had thrown for him. The scene from an hour earlier flashed before her.

Brooke ran after him, "Lucas, please stay."

Lucas shook his head, "I can't Brooke, it's not...right."

He was yelling at her. She was trying to find a way to be there for him, and he was yelling at her.

Frustrated and beyond emotional, Brooke raised her voice a little, "Why not?"

And then he'd said it. Words that had cut her like a knife. "You wouldn't understand, you weren't there."

Brooke shook a little as she responded, " I may not have been inside that school, but that doesn't mean that I wasn't there. It doesn't mean that I don't carry that day around with me like everybody else."

She barely heard a word Rachel and Mouth said as they tried to reason with Lucas. She just stared at him, unable to believe he was pushing her away so hard.

Lucas looked at her, he was shaking as well, and she could tell he was close to tears. "I'm sorry Brooke, I know you're trying to help me through this, and I love you for it, but I... I just, I can't."

Then he had walked away, before she could say anything.

Brooke sat down on the couch, feeling completely alone. Maybe the party had been a stupid idea. Maybe she was shallow for thinking that a party could bring people together. Maybe Lucas felt she had been disrespecting Keith. She was so stupid.

Tears began spilling from her eyes, as she sat alone in the dark. She had only been trying to help the boy she loved. If she could, she would take away all of his pain, and bring it upon herself. But Lucas wouldn't let her in, not even a little bit. And that killed her.

She loved Lucas, she did. She couldn't help it. When she had found him, everything had seemed to fall into place. And then he had cheated on her, with her best friend. And then somehow, they had found each other again. And when he had told her he loved her, for the very first time, she thought, "This is it. He's the one."

But now, she only had her tears. Maybe she'd been wrong.

Sure, she knew that he was hurting, and that maybe the party had been too much. But the way he had looked at when he told he she wouldn't understand…The look in his eyes had made her feel like he thought she would never understand anything about him.

And that hurt. All most as much as when those same words had been said to her by…

Brooke stopped her self from thinking about him. He was not a part of her life anymore. She had blocked that part of her life away a long time ago, not to be spoken of, not to be thought of. Peyton didn't even know about him.

Peyton didn't know that he always wore the same necklace, the significance of which was unknown to Brooke. Peyton didn't know when you got close enough, you could tell that his eyes were actually a stunning green, not brown. Peyton didn't know that her earlier conversation with Lucas was strikingly similar to another painful conversation she'd had with him. Peyton didn't know that his smirk could make you weak in the knees and his rare smile could melt your heart. Peyton didn't know that he was Brooke's first love, not Lucas.

Brooke shook her head, wiping her tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. It had been a long time since she'd let herself think of Dean Winchester.

_ Shes a brick and I'm drowning  
Slowly  
Off the coast and I'm headed  
Nowhere  
Shes a brick and I'm drowning  
Slowly_

"Get anything?" Dean asked, towling his wet hair. They had finally made it to Charlotte and had rented a small hotel room. Dean had driven straight through Tree Hill, refusing to stop even when Sam begged Dean to pull over so he could use the bathroom. Sam had been mad about that, but Sam didn't know about Brooke.

"Um…not much. I mean, there is a connection…"

Dean stopped listening when he eyes hit caught the television screen.

"Residents of North Carolina, as well as people from all over the country, have been sending in thousands of messages of support for the vicitims and families of the school shooting at Tree Hill High. Prayer vigils have been set up and candle lit ceremonies have been taking place in honor of Keith Scott, who was shot and killed at the school while trying to talk to Jimmy Edwards, the shooter."

Scenes of Tree Hill High flashed across the screen. Ambulences surrounded the school. Students and teachers were crying.

"But what people are talking about today is the media's handle of the event, and tragic events like it. The following exchange was caught on tape by our TV crew here at channel 3. It shows a newscaster from channel 10 trying to interview students, only minutes after the shooting." The news channel began rolling a clip.

"I want student's emotions, their reactions. There's gold here." An older lady told her camera man, ovbiously unaware that she herself was being filmed.

Dean's breath caught as she came on screen. "A little insensitive, don't you think?" Her voice pierced straight through him, just as it always had.

"And you might be?"

"Brooke Davis, student council president." The fire in her eyes was undenyable. She was angry.

But apparently the woman had a hard time taking a hint and continued. "I'm here with student council president Brooke Davis. Brooke, can you put into words how you might be feeling about this tragedy?"

Dean watched mutliple emotions cross Brooke's face. For a while, he had had every expression she had memorized. But after time, he'd forgotten them.

Brooke's raspy voice still had a powerful effect over him, even through the TV.

"You should be ashamed of yourself. There are kids inside our school fearing for their lives right now, terrified that someone is going to put a gun in their face and pull the trigger, and you want to know how I'm feeling? Our pain is not a comadadtiy for you, it's not a news bite to boost your ratings. Because tomorrow or the next day or the next week when we go back to school, changed forever by a day that will never leave us, where are you going to be? At the next tragedy thrusting your microphone in the face of the next fractured person asking them how they feel? Lady, that is not journalism, you are not contributing anything to society. You are buzzards circling the carnage but you prey on the living. That is how I'm feeling. But something tells me you're not going to air that."

Dean smiled despite himself, "That a girl, Brooke," He thought to himself. She was the strongest girl he had ever met. And apparently not much had changed. He reround the interview, thankfully even the crappiest hotels had been installing TiVo, and watched the interview again, unknowingly memorizing all her expressions again. Their was so much pain on her face. In her eyes. And why shouldn't there be? There had been a shooting at her school. What if some of her friends had been killed? That blond, Peyton, that Brooke had shown him a picture of could have been killed.

Dean glanced at her face again, and a scarier thought crossed his mind. Brooke could have easily been killed that day.

And he wouldn't have been there. He would have broken his promise.

"Please don't leave." Brooke wasn't one to beg, but at the moment her pride meant nothing to her.

Dean shook his head, "I can't stay."

"Why not?" She asked, having no idea what Dean did with his life.

He wanted to tell her. He wanted to tell her more than anything in the entire world. But he didn't. He remembered all too well how Cassie had responded.

Instead, he shook his head again and looked away from her. "You wouldn't understand."

She didn't say anything for a long time, and Dean finally looked back at her.

"I love you." She whispered, tears running down her cheeks.

Dean felt like he was drowning, and all he wanted to do was gasp for air but if he did he would only drown quicker. He loved her too. It didn't make sense, but he did. And he wanted to tell her more than anything in the entire world. But he didn't.

Instead, he cleared his throat and stepped towards the door. "If you ever need anything, anything at all, call me. I'll always protect you, and I'll drive all night if I have to to get to you. But I have to go."

Every word he spoke tore her apart, he could tell from the look in her eyes. Her beautiful hazel eyes.

He hated himself, but he had to leave. He couldn't tell her the truth. That had scared Cassie away, and it would do the same for Brooke. He couldn't let that happen, especially since he loved Brooke in a way that he had never even imagined with Cassie.

"Take care of yourself, Brooke Davis." He closed the door behind himself, and walked to his car without looking back, because he knew if he looked into her eyes one more time, he'd never be able to leave her.

"Dean? Dean!" Sam's voice brought him back to the present.

Dean turned the TV off quickly and looked at Sam, "Yeah?"

Sam raised his eyebrows, "What's going on? Who's that girl?"

"Nobody." Dean said, trying to keep emotion out of his voice, but failing miserably.

"Don't give me that Dean. Like I said earlier, you've been acting weird ever since Ellen asked us to look into this case. Tell me what's going on."

Dean glanced back at the now black television screen.

"I've got to go some where. Keep working on the case."

_They call her name at 7:30  
I pace around the parking lot  
Then I walk down to buy her flowers  
And sell some gifts that I got_

_Can't you see it's not me you're dying for  
Now shes feeling more alone  
Than she ever has before_

Not everyone was back in school, but most were. Everyone was somber, walking through the halls in a torturous silence.

Brooke slowly pulled her books from her locker, placing them carefully into her bag. It seemed like she did everything carefully now.

She hadn't talked to Lucas since the party the night before, and she doubted he would be at school. She'd thought about calling him many times, but then she realized she wouldn't know what to say. So instead she just checked her phone every few minutes, hoping for a missed call.

Peyton wasn't at school either. She was still recovering from her gunshot wound, and the crutches would be too hard to handle in the hallways this soon.

Nathan and Haley rarely left each others sides, and Brooke had always hated feeling like a third wheel.

So Brooke was alone, in a crowd full of people.

She understood that people needed time to deal with what happened, but did everyone have to leave her completely alone?

Needing to talk to someone, she pulled out her phone and called Peyton.

The phone rang a few times before a deep voice answered the phone. It was Peyton's dad.

"Can I please talk to Peyton?" Brooke asked after they spoke a few mintues about how she was doing.

"Yeah, I'll just get her. They are outside on the porch."

"They?"

"Yeah, Lucas came over earlier. Poor guy, he's having a really hard time isn't he?"

Brooke couldn't speak. She couldn't answer him. She couldn't answer him because she wouldn't know. Lucas wouldn't talk to her. But he'd talk to Peyton.

She hung up the phone, putting it on silent before shoving it deep into her bag.

She needed to get away.

The air was colder than she remembered as she quickly made her way to her car.

"Brooke Davis?" She heard Principle Turner's voice call after her.

"Shit." She mummered to herself, tears spilling down her cheeks. She just wanted to leave, and she couldn't.

She turned around, wiping her flushed cheeks. "I was just getting something out of my car."

Principle Turner looked at her knowingly, "Brooke, we have conselers you can talk to. Everyone is hurting right now, and it's okay to talk about what happened."

Brooke shook her head. He didn't understand. She did want to talk about it. But she wanted to talk to it about it with Lucas, or Peyton, or Haley, or Nathan, or Mouth. But none of them were "ready" to talk to her, instead finding comfort in each other, because they were all inside the school that day and she wasn't. Hell, they would probably talk to Rachel before her, just because she'd gotten shoved on the bus instead of being allowed to run after the ones she loved. It wasn't fair.

"I just think it's too soon for me to be back." She swallowed, playing with the fringe of the scarf that hung from her neck.

He nodded, "Let me walk you to the office and you can call an adult to check you out, okay? I can't just let you leave."

Brooke pressed a palm to her forehead trying to keep away the dark feeling of helplessness that was threatening to take over.

"Yeah, okay." She gave up without her usual fight. There was no point anymore.

They walked to the office in silence, the empty hallways enhancing the echos of their foot steps.

Turner held the door open for her, and she forced a polite smile.

She picked up the office phone, dialing her own silented cell phone and waiting for the voice mail to pick up. "Mom, hey…Yeah, I'm okay, but I think I need more time at home…It's just too hard…Is that okay?…No, I can drive myself…Okay, see you soon."

She turned to Turner, who nodded, satisfied with her fake phone call. Truthfully, Brooke's parents had only called once since the shooting, just to make sure she wasn't dead or lying in a hospital somewhere. Victoria probably wouldn't have picked up her phone anyway.

She walked her way out of the school again, wrapping her dark purple scarf tighter around her neck and pulling her cardigan tighter around her tiny frame.

Keeping her head down to guard her face from the cold wind that was blowing unusually hard against her face, she made her way through the parking lot. Finally making it to her car, she rambled through her purse looking for her keys, taking the time to notice that her cell phone had five missed calls from Peyton and six from Lucas.

As she jabbed her keys into the lock, they slipped from her grasp, falling to the pavement. Frustrated tears spilled down her cheeks as she reached down for them. It was then that she heard a voice that had been haunting her for years.

"Brooke."

She looked up, her breath catching in her throat, causing her words to come out even raspier than usual.

"Dean."

_As weeks went by  
It showed that she was not fine  
They told me son its time  
To tell the truth  
And she broke down and I broke down  
Cause I was tired of lying_

"Dean." She repeated, placing a hand against her car to steady herself. She felt dizzy. "What are you doing here."

"I…" He couldn't believe that he was actually looking into her eyes again, after running from them for so long.

"Whatever." She snappped, picking up her keys and sliding them into the lock. "It doesn't matter." She didn't need this. She didn't need him coming back when…when what? When she was finally happy? That's a joke. She was miserable. Maybe even more so now than she was after he left.

"I wanted to see you, I heard about the shooting." He finished lamely, taking a few steps closer.

Brooke glared at him, "Well, you and everybody else. I'm fine, see?" She held up her hands and faced him, before opening the door to her car. He felt sorry for her. That's why he'd come back. Great. Just what she needed.

"Brooke, you are obviously not fine." He said, like her knew her. He did know her. No one had ever been able to read Brooke like Dean had. It was a gift and a curse.

"I will be fine. And I don't need you to help me get there, okay? So why don't you do what you do best and leave?"

Dean flinched at her words, but began walking towards her. He deserved how she was treaing him. But he needed her to know that he cared about her and that he hadn't left because he'd stopped.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He pressed coming close enough to her to notice the dry tear stains on her face.

"Yes." She almost yelled, not looking at him, "I do want to talk about it. I want to talk about it with my boyfriend. I want to talk about it with my best friend. I want to talk about it with my friends that were inside that day. But none of them want to talk about it so I can't talk about it." She hated that more tears were slipping from the corners of her hazel eyes, but she was past the point of stopping them.

"You can talk about it with me." He offered, squatting down next to the Brooke, who was sitting in the driver's seat of her car. He tried not to think about the fact she'd said she had a boyfriend. Of course she had a boyfriend. She was Brooke Davis. Any guy would be lucky to have her. And whoever let her go had to be stupid. Yeah, stupid was a good word to describe himself.

"You are the last person I want to talk about it with." She said, her voice firm, her stare hard. He couldn't believe how broken she looked. Had he done this to her?

"I never wanted this for you, Brooke. The reasons I left had nothing to do with you. There are things that you don't know about me, and I you just wouldn't-"

Brooke shook her head, her hair, considerbly longer than it was the last time Dean had seen her, falling around her face. "Don't give me that Dean. Don't tell me I won't understand. You don't work for the fucking F.B.I."

Dean laughed bitterly at the irony, "Not exactly."

Brooke shoved her keys into the ignition, "You know what? It doesn't matter. There is nothing you can say to me that will change what happened." She knew she was unleashing a lot of anger, anger that was partially meant for him, but also anger that was meant for her parents, for Lucas, for Peyton, for Jimmy.

Dean looked away. It was so hard to see her this broken. The strong girl he once knew was gone, and the girl he had seen on TV was just an act. Brooke had always been good at acting.

Brooke took a moment to look at him as he looked away. He looked so much older. He looked so tired. What had happened to him? Where had he been? What was it that he did that she wouldn't understand? Why did he come back? There were hundreds of questions that she wanted to ask him, but she kept quiet. Dean wasn't a part of her life anymore. She had let him go. Hadn't she?

"Can you please move so I can leave?" She finally said, drawing his eyes back to hers.

Dean took a deep breath, "Look, I really think that—"

Brooke's phone, still in her purse, began vibrating in her lap. Gratefull for any distraction from Dean's stare, she pulled out her phone.

"I Love Broody" flashed across the screen, along with a picture of them kissing on the beach.

She didn't have to say anything to Dean, he saw the screen.

Brooke decided against answering, tossing her phone onto the passenger seat.

"Dean, move."

"Do you love him?" He asked, his voice louder than he meant it to be.

Brooke clenched her jaw, "You have no right to ask me that."

Dean knew she was right. But he didn't care. He wasn't go to leave now, not when he saw the hesitation in her voice.

"Tell me that you love him more than me, and I'll leave. You'll never see him again." He pressed, wishing he could make some kind of physical contact with her.

Brooke closed her eyes, wondering why her life had suddenly collapsed around her. Everythign had been going right, and now nothing was how it should be. Lucas was supposed to love her, not Peyton. Jimmy Edwards was supposed to get through his problems, not take a gun to school. Peyton Sawyer was supposed to be her best-friend, not her competion. And Dean Winchester was supposed to stay a memory.

"I loved you Dean. I don't love you anymore. I love Lucas." She finally said, not even knowing herself if what she said was true. "Now, let me go."

Dean didn't know what he was doing. He hadn't come here to bring back the past. He'd let that go as best he could. He'd just wanted to see her. But now, as she put her car into reverse, he couldn't let himself lose her again.

Before he could get scared, before he could talk himself out of it, he reached over her, put her car into park, and pulled the keys out of the ignition.

Shocked by his actions and the feeling his touch still sent through her, Brooke's mouth dropped open. "Dean, what the fuc-"

"I hunt things." He almost yelled, shoving her keys into his pocket.

"Excuse me?" Brooke's raised her voice to match his. What was wrong with him?

"I hunt things. I save people." He tried to explain, knowing that nothing he was saying was making sense.

"Supernatural things. Demons, changlings, vampires, werewolves, witches, spirits. They're all real Brooke. And me and Sam, my brother, hunt them." He was rambling, but he couldn't stop. She needed to know, even if she ended up thinking he was crazy.

Brooke didn't know what to think. She still felt dizzy, and fainting was becoming a good possibility.

"When Sam and I were younger, a demon killed our mom. My dad spent the rest of his life trying to kill it. And now, me and Sam are continuing what he started. Saving people. Hunting things."

Brooke could barely breathe. This was all too much. The things he was saying…What was she supposed to say back? She knew Dean wasn't crazy. But vampires? Demons?

"Brooke, I know that I sound crazy. But that's why I had to leave. I couldn't risk you getting hurt. And I didn't want to see that face." He finally brought himself to touch her face, his palm cupping her cheek. "The face that thinks I'm crazy. I know this hard to believe, but I had to tell you. I had to see you again."

Dean swallowed hard, waiting for her to say something, but she didn't.

"I made a deal with a demon to save my brother. I have less than a year to live."

Brooke couldn't help herself. She started crying. The tears poured down her cheeks, so many that she couldn't even decide what she was crying for.

Dean reached one hand under her legs and the other around her back, lifting her out of the car. He then sat down himself, letting her lean into his chest. Her hand clutched onto his shirt, balling the fabric up in her hands.

He kissed the top of her head, rocking her back and forth.

"Say something, please." He whispered, a single tear falling down his cheek.

Brooke bit her trembling lip, trying to control her sobs.

"Can't you see? It's not me you're dying for." She finally said, her voice even raspier than usual.

Dean didn't know what to say. What else could he say?

Brooke took in a deep breath, finally looking up into his face. "You aren't dying for me. You left me. For…for the life that you lead. You should have told me. You…you could have told me. I loved you, Dean. Okay? I loved you. You're dying for your brother and for all the people that you help. But not me. I died for you a long time ago."

Dean closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. She was right.

"Is there nothing I do?" He finally asked, as he felt her hands loosen their grip on his shirt.

Brooke smiled sadly, "You can take me home."

_  
Driving back to her apartment  
For the moment we're alone  
She's alone  
And I'm alone  
Now I know it_

Dean's car smelt just like she remembered it to. Tacos and leather. Not the best combination, but a little bit of her felt at home as she slid into the passenger seat.

They were both quiet as he drove. Neither knew what to say, or even if they had anything to say.

He pulled up to her house, and the silence seemed to become evident for the first time.

Brooke reached for the handle, wondering if things could have worked out any other way.

"Brooke. I know I didn't tell you this when I should have, but I love you." Dean knew he was too late, but he also had nothing to lose.

Brooke smiled tiredly. "I think I always knew."

She leaned over, placing a soft kiss on his lips.

"Good-bye, Dean Winchester."

Before he could say anything, she opened the door, getting out quickly and closing the door behind her. She didn't look back as she walked up the sidewalk to her house.

"Good-bye Brooke Davis." He said into the silence.

As he drove away, another tear fell. He knew it was best for him to let her go. She needed to move on. She needed someone to be there for her. That wasn't him. He was going to be gone in less then a year. Maybe it would be Lucas. Maybe not. But she'd find him one day. He couldn't fight for her. It was too late for that; it wouldn't be fair to her. He had to let her go.

Now he knew what it felt like to die for someone.


End file.
